


Gaining Ground (And Trying Not To Lose It)

by Silver__Hawk



Series: Batfamily: Mending Broken Hearts and Broken Minds [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Angst (DCU), Batfamily-centric (DCU), Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson Gives Advice, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Good Bro Dick Grayson, Good Bro Jason Todd, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Needs Love, Jason Todd Whump, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Jason Todd-centric, Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Siblings, Sort Of, Tim Drake Needs Love, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Whump, Worried Batfamily (DCU), very bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver__Hawk/pseuds/Silver__Hawk
Summary: Jason finds that reintegrating into the batfamily isn't always the easiest thing to do, or the most painless. But he finds that through trial and error his bond grows with his brothers, and that maybe... just maybe all the chaos is worth it.WARNING: (Fluff, loads of angst, and family bonding)TRIGGER WARNING: Depression and self loathing (Mostly Jason and Tim)Chapter 4: Jason and Bruce: Sick as A Bat: On his way home from Wayne Enterprises, Bruce stumbles across a sick Jason and takes him home. To avoid getting a spleenless Tim sick, Bruce winds up quarantining at Jason's house until the contagion has run its course.(Pt. 4 Of BATFAMILY: BROKEN MINDS AND MENDING THE HURT) But can be read standalone
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Batfamily: Mending Broken Hearts and Broken Minds [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755331
Comments: 68
Kudos: 321





	1. Jay and Tim (Brotherly Moments) Part 1

Jason hummed quietly, a large brown baggie of groceries tucked beneath one arm, his jingling keys in the other. It was nice to have a place he didn't have to slink in and out of. Officially, the apartment belonged to Dick, since they had yet to _officially_ raise Jason Todd from the dead. Or bring him back at all. Bruce had paid the medical examiner to keep the documents quiet, claiming he didn't want his grief publicized. He simply told the press that his ward went missing over seas, when in reality, there'd been a quiet close casket funeral outside Wayne Manor.

One day, Jason would talk to Bruce about bringing him back officially. Right now though, he didn't feel as if he and Bruce were close enough to take such a leap and bound. Sure, ever since the family had discovered Bruce's less than admirable reaction to Jason's rise from the dead, they'd been mending the damage to the family. Up until that point, they'd believed that Jason relished in being alone, in distancing himself from the rest of them.

In reality, he'd been depressed and alone. He knew he was on tenuous footing with the family, and he wanted at least some working relationship with them; but that meant keeping all weakness, all problems under wraps and away from their attention. After the family found out that Jason had been pushed away when he needed them the most, they'd rallied against Bruce and helped pick Jason up.

By far, he'd made the most progress with Dick. Pieces of him still harbored insecurities, worries that he'd slip up and accidentally drive Dick and the others away. But despite slip ups and mistakes, they'd stayed close by; and he'd done the same. It was strange, being brothers.

Despite the progress he'd made, Jason still hadn't really talked to Tim beyond their nights patrolling. It wasn't like Jason didn't _like_ Tim. On the contrary, he and Tim were a lot a like. There had just been less to talk about. Unlike Dick, Tim kept his distance unless approached, and Jason knew that was just his style. Tim had definitely had his back. In fact, stripping Bruce from the cowl -albeit temporarily- had been all Tim's idea, in retaliation for what Bruce had done to both Jason and Dick. The boy never blamed Jason for trying to kill once or twice back in the bad days, but that didn't mean Jason didn't blame himself. It's why reaching out to Tim had become so difficult.

He didn't know how. Jason couldn't look the kid in the face without remembering how he, the second robin, had tried to snuff out such a brilliant little life. It hurt.

It hurt because he was growing fond of the third Robin; but he didn't know how to approach him, to reach out, over come the guilt, and bond beyond the confines of nightly patrols.

The last thing he truly expected was to open his creaky unoiled door and find the replacement sitting in the far corner of the room. Jason lived in the nicest place in crime alley, a small apartment complex perched dead center, perfect for nightly patrol. Jason was a crime alley rat who defended his neck of the woods, hence why he insisted on living there. Despite being the nicest place, the wall paper in the halls and lobby was peeling, the air conditioning blasted frigid air year round, and the walls were paper thin. Jason's apartment was halfway decent, but only because he'd spent time and a lot of money making it that way. He'd installed a crap ton of security, and tried to make the place livable with good furniture, and for the most part he got by.

"Replacement?" The old insult slipped past his lips without much thought. Tim shivered. He was wet, soaked to the bone in his Kevlar and spandex, dripping hair clinging desperately to his face as he blinked owlishly at the retired second Robin. "What the heck, man!"

The paper bag was dropped on the coffee table, keys clinking as they followed suit. In seconds, Jason was kneeling at the third Robin's side, fingers probing the kid's rain slicked neck for a pulse.

"S-sorry." Tim breathed, twitching a bit. His pulse was strong, if not a bit fast. Jason pursed his lips and reached up to peel the domino mask away from Tim's face.

"What happened to you?" Jason demanded sharply, tone earning a flinch from the boy pressed into his corner.

"F-fear Toxin." Tim stuttered, curling in on himself as he shivered violently. "I-I'm sorry... Sorry. C-couldn't make it h-home." His jaw clenched, rain water dripping from his nose and jaw to add to the puddle soaking into Jason's unvarnished wood floor.

Jason felt bad. This had been him not long ago, curled up in an alley and forced to rely on Dick for help. Fear Toxin was horrific, one of the most horrific gasses in Gotham, next to Joker's laughing gas. Even after an antidote had been administered, the victim was jumpy, insecure, and unsettled, especially with the newer stuff Scarecrow was pumping out. Tim must have already administered the cure, but his dilated pupils and twitchyness confirmed to Jason that the kid was suffering after effects.

Jason took a steeling breath. He was tired -no- exhausted. But after all the grief he'd caused, this was a small price to pay. And he was admittedly fond of the kid. Making his voice as gentle as possible, he ruffled Tim's hair. "It's okay, kid. You look beat..." He stood up, holding a hand out. "Why don't we get you into something warm?"

"I-I'm fine... just n-need to..." He took a breath, chin dipping as he shivered. "Sit a min-minute... t-then I'll... b-be gone."

"Absolutely _not._ " Jason replied, ducking and pulling Tim's arm over his shoulder. "Weren't you and Dickiebird teaming up to tell me that asking for help _wasn't_ a sign of weakness?"

Tim lowered his head, red brushing his cheeks and coloring his ears. 

"That's what I thought. Now-" He grunted, deftly pulling Tim to his feet. "I'm a bit bigger than you, but-" Tim made no protest as Jason gently guided him towards one of two bedrooms. It was neat, well kept, almost as if Alfred had visited. It was just how Jason kept things. Honestly, it was something he had picked up after dying. His masters and teachers hadn't had room for a messy student, so he'd learned early on to keep anything you owned exactly where it should be. "-some of my stuff should fit you."

Even on bad days, Jason kept his things neat and orderly.

His room had a full sized bed with a red comforter and about six pillows piled on top -neatly of course- He had a white dresser with a television on top, and a closet. Other than a photo of a yellow dog tacked to the wall with tape, that was all in terms of decor. With some help from Bruce, they'd made a hidden wall that gave Hood access to a compartment housing his regular gear and some backups.

Jason left Tim leaning in the corner of the bedroom, before he turned to rifle through the drawers. He produced a long sleeved Red shirt and a black hoodie, finished off with gray sweatpants and a pair of cotton black socks. "Well, it'll be large; but it'll be warm. Let me get you a towel too, and then I'm gonna go start some soup."

Tim nodded, watching as Jason set the clothes down on the edge of the bed and strode over the closet. He pulled a fresh red towel from the back and set it down next to the clothes. Jason saw Tim watch uncertainly, blue eyes brimmed with pain and exhaustion. Jason felt his heart break a little, knowing that his little brother was drowning in who knew what.

"Hey." He gripped Tim's shoulders to ground him. "It'll be okay. I'm glad you came."

Tim blinked in surprise, arms and body tensing as another shiver wracked his frame.

"Now get changed and holler if you need me."

* * *

Jason wasted no time in making up some chicken noodle soup. It was a cliche for some, a comfort food for the sick days. But Jason found it warming, a comfort on a bad day. So perhaps he'd embraced the cliche. It wasn't as if _he_ cared what people thought about it. He had put the soup on the stove and was still in the process of slicing up some fresh vegetables for his own side salad when he sensed someone in the hallway. Tim was leaning heavily against the wall, Jason's clothes hanging off him where the muscle difference was most evident.

"Hey." Jason huffed, setting the knife down and grabbing a heavy blanket from the fraying wicker basket sitting next to his couch. Tim stilled as Jason approached and draped the fabric over his shoulders. A warm arm pulled him close, guiding the third robin to the couch. "Just sit back, stick your feet up." He helped Tim get comfortable, even propping the kid's feet up on the coffee table, chosen specifically for its height in relation to his couch.

Tim said nothing. He didn't have the energy to protest being coddled, eyelids drooping heavily. "Think you can handle some soup?" Jason asked, pressing the blanket in around his feet.

"N-no." Tim stuttered quietly. The his nose wrinkled. "M-maybe"

"Alright, shouldn't be long. I always keep some in the fridge just for emergencies. Shouldn't be long."

* * *

Tim sat silently, dozing in and out. He was warming up, and when Jason settled a bowl of soup into his hands, he savored the warmth leeching through almost painfully to scald his finger tips. Jason sat next to Tim, not too close, not too far. He wasn't sure what mindset the kid was in at the moment. Tim picked at the soup, shivers now subsided to tiny tremors.

"Is it okay?" Jason asked. Most days he would have said take it or leave it; but not when Tim was in such a vulnerable state. "I can-"

"N-no. It's fine." Tim replied quickly, gripping control on his stutter. "Thanks. I-I'm not..." He sucked in a breath. "I-" He closed his eyes, tightly, clearly trying to get a grip on whatever motions were bubbling beneath the surface of his carefully crafted facade.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Jason assured, setting his own soup aside. "I know. That gas sure can do a number on the good ole' appetite."

"But you... worked hard."

"I took a bowl out of the fridge and put the liquid on the stove." Jason deadpanned. "Done, viola!" He hesitantly put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "You can stop worrying. I'm not gonna kick you out."

"Okay." Tim murmured, curling in on himself as much as he could. Jason didn't press. He knew from personal experience that the toxin could dredge up every insecurity, make its victim feel like the walls were caving in. And those were just the after affects. Talking about it wasn't something the bat kids made a habit of doing, ever. That meant exposing flaws, weak insecurities that made them feel stupid.

So Jason didn't question.

They sat in silence, Jason pulling his book out of the blanket basket and curling up on the cushion next to a semi-conscious Tim. It was almost ten minutes later when Tim spoke.

"I came here on purpose." It was whisper, exhaustion lacing every word. Jason set the book aside and fixed Tim with a curious look. "Because... you understand."

"Understand what, Babybird?"

"What it's like to be replaced."

Jason felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Bruce wasn't even Batman right now. What could he have done? If he-

"I'm sorry." Tim backtracked, face scrunching up guiltily as Jason's face turned red with fury.

"No!" Jason barked, biting his tongue and grabbing Tim's shoulder again when the kid flinched. "It's okay." He soothed. "I'm not mad at you. I promise. Can- Will you tell me what happened?" 

Tim paused, swallowing heavily. "It was while back..." He whispered. "When Damian came on the scene. He was violent, and-" Tim sighed out through his nose. "Bruce said he needed to keep an eye on him. So he-" Tim closed his eyes as Jason pieced the rest together. _Bruce gave the demon spawn Robin._

"He gave Damian Robin... not two weeks after he tried to kill me."

Jason's hand squeezed tight, fingers digging into Tim's shoulder as he glared at the wooden floor paneling in his living room.

"And he said it was because... I was ready. But I-" He shook his head bitterly. "I can't help but wonder what I did wrong." He finished.

Jason sighed. _So that's what the fear toxin was doing to him._ He mulled over the answer for a long time, massaging the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Timbers." Jason acquiesced after a moment of silence. "I wasn't exactly sane at the time; or talking to the family... but..." Jason frowned. "Bruce isn't great with feelings. And I know you. Mistakes, they happen. Bruce said it himself. When Dick and I got 'fired' it was because we were putting ourselves at too much risk. But if Damian was immediately given Robin... it wouldn't have been because you made a mistake. Especially _not_ if Bruce is telling you that you're ready. Bruce is many things. I _liar_ isn't one of them... Do I think Bruce went about it the right way? Heck no. But Timmy, you're smarter than all of us put together. Dick's the heart, I'm the brawn, Damian's the spirit, and you're the brains. When Bruce can't crack a case, he sends it to you. He wouldn't do that if he felt you'd messed up too much to be trusted."

Jason rubbed a hand down his face.

"I felt the same way. Except, I _knew_ where I messed up." Jason admitted. "It doesn't hurt any less, to know someone else has what you once had. I can't imagine what it'd be like if the person wearing my colors had just tried to kill me, but... Then it dawned on me. Training wheels."

"What?"

"That suit, that mantel? It's the vigilante equivalent to training wheels. You learn the ropes, how to ride the bike. You fall off, but it's still standing, waiting for you to keep going. But then you get bigger, you grow up. You have to start riding without help, without a net... or a big bad bat giving you instructions. So you stop the training, take the training wheels off, and gain liberty. Dick and I- We bypassed the hovering parent stage. You know, where the parent holds onto the back of the bike for those first few tries. But you've still got it. Bruce has given you a lot of space, to become your own man, away from the Robin mantel. You have a name that you can mold into whatever you want. But Bruce still has your back. He's still teaching you, giving you pointers."

"That's a... funny way of looking it at." Tim closed his eyes, mulling it over. Finally he opened his eyes. "But I guess that's why I asked you... I just figured you'd..."

"Understand, have a perspective you hadn't considered? A goofy one because I'm such a numbskull."

A shaky smile flit across Tim's lips. "Yeah."

"Well, Dick understands too, ya know." Jason pointed out, grabbing another blanket to throw over his own legs. "He was the original fired robin."

"I know... but... Dick might yell at Bruce about it."

Jason blinked. "Oh for crying out loud." He muttered. "This entire family, self sacrificing-" He leveled Tim with a look. Tim was suffering in silence to protect Bruce, just as Jason had. It was time to put an end to it. "And who says I _won't._ I'm the _angry_ robin, remember?" Tim's eyes widened. "Tim. If he doesn't know he hurt you, he'll continue this pattern. You spoke up for me, when I'd gone and let the whole batarang thing go. You spoke up, even though I thought it was done and over. Now it's my turn."

"But-"

"But nothing." Jason dropped his voice, reaching out -breaking his minimal contact standards- and pulled Tim into a hug. "You deserve better than that. And clearly Bruce has things he needs to talk to you about. I'm going to give it a push."

"I don't need you to-"

"It's my brotherly duty." Jason cut him off, setting his chin on top of Tim's head. "I didn't need you guys to step in for me either."

"Yes you did." Came Tim's mumbled response. There was silence for a moment before Jason sighed.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Tim hesitantly leaned into Jason's side hug, exhaustion dragging him under with the aid of the extra body heat. Before he slipped away, Tim forced his eyes open. He wasn't a dependent soul, but Jason's offer was enticing to say the least. "Hey Jay?"

"Right here."

"I'll talk to Bruce... but if you could... be there..."

"Absolutely. I'll even bring a pitch fork if you want." Jason replied, tucking the disturbed blankets around Tim once more. "Now get some sleep."

* * *

**TBC**

_ PLEASE READ _

_Now, I've been reading a lot of comics and discovering more bits and pieces, realizing where they fall on the time line. That means I have to adjust... So._

  1. _In this universe, Bruce hasn't died -yet- meaning Dick hasn't been batman for more than a few days on the rare occasions where Bruce was unavailable. That being said, Bruce was the one to take Robin from Tim and give it to Damian. That was discussed in this fic._
  2. _Because Bruce hasn't died, there was no battle for the cowl. Jason attempted to Kill Tim earlier on, while still in the grips of pit insanity_
  3. _Dick has not thrown Jason in Arkham_
  4. _Jason worked with Roy and Koriand'r but has yet to form the second outlaw team with Artemis and Bizarro. That being said, I'm still keeping it canon that he stole the tires of the batmobile. And that he died in Ethiopia. According the the 1st volume of Red Hood and the outlaws, he was caught by batman stealing medication from Leslie as opposed to stealing the tires off the batmobile, and According the second volume, he was killed in Qurac. So In this story, he stole the tires and died in Ethiopia._
  5. _Comics are confusing._



_I made these changes because I wanted Damian as Robin, yet I wanted to fix some of the events that occurred after Bruce was lost in the time stream. That will be covered later on in the series._

_Anyhow, thank you for reading, and stay tuned for chapter 2!_


	2. Jay and Tim (Brotherly Moments) Part 2

Tim groaned as he came around, head throbbing like someone was repeatedly jamming a screwdriver into his right eye. His cheek was pressed into a blanket, which was also wrapped around him like a fuzzy cocoon. A heavy arm was draped limply over his shoulder, indicating to Tim that his head was in someone's lap. Frowning, he ignored the spikes of pain in his brain, trying to sit up. It was dark, still night/early morning (?). He shook his head, moving his arms out of the cocoon to cradle his face.

The arm on his shoulder suddenly tightened, fingers gripping Tim's shoulder. "S'okay. Go back to sleep, Timbers. You're safe." Someone sleepily grumbled. Tim froze. It was Jason. He'd fallen asleep on Jason's couch, pinning the older brother down, presumably all night. Tim realized that Jason probably thought he had a nightmare... which surprisingly, he hadn't. Tim frowned, listening for a moment as Jason's breathing evened out. He was already back asleep.

* * *

When Tim woke again, he was alone on the couch, a pillow under his head. Well that answered that question; Jason could have left at any time. He rubbed his eyes, sniffing. The heavy scent of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a coffee pot chortling as it spit brown liquid into the pot sitting on the base. Tim sat up, instantly drawn in by the tasty black liquid that most of the family was convinced he needed to live and breathe.

Which he did.

"Well well, look who finally decided to join me in the land of wakefullness." Tim snapped his head over the back of the couch. Jason was sitting on the counter, legs crossed, flipping through mail. "Get up, grab some coffee. I've got some frozen waffles in the freezer, cereal if you want it. I'll take you home in an hour or so."

"Home?"

"Yeah. Home, the manor? Bruce's dark castle of gloom? Home of Alfred's infamous waffles but otherwise terrific cooking." Jason raised an eyebrow. "Ringing any bells?"

Tim glanced down, letting out a sigh. "Yeah. Sorry." Rubbing the back of his head, he kicked the blanket off, shuffling to the kitchen to grab one of the mugs hanging from the hooks on the wall above the coffee pot. Jason observed the hunch of his shoulders, the tired and stressed look that had come over his little brother at the mention of home.

"Talk."

Tim froze, fingers just in the process of curling around the handle to the coffee pot. A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"What's going on, Timbit?" Jason pressed, lowering his voice slightly. "Avoiding the manor is _my_ shtick."

"I know." Tim sighed, shrugging Jason's hand off and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Jason watched with a wrinkled nose as he dumped not, not two, but _four_ scoops of sugar into his mug and then mixed it up. After a long, calming sip, he sighed. "Bruce and I got into a fight. My work as Red Robin is hurting my grades. I prefer solving cases to studying, and sometimes I fall asleep in class, or get too wound up in a case to even go."

"Ah."

Jason didn't have much he could say to that. Back when he'd been robin, his time on the streets was directly linked to the scores on his quizzes and tests. He'd loved school, and there were times where he'd willingly stay in one night to study. But clearly the standard had dropped, especially since Tim was technically his own vigilante now.

"He's benching me every other day so I have time to study and bring my grades up."

"But you'd rather be out there kicking bad guy butts." Jason surmised, watching as Tim unwittingly downed a cup of decaf coffee. He was sipping on Earle Gray tea, mind not quite clear of the morning funk, but definitely present enough to feel for his little brother.

"Yeah."

"And let me guess." Jason continued, tone hardening. "You snuck out last night, got into trouble with the scarecrow, and realized you were in hot water... because fighting scarecrow doesn't qualify as studying. Bruce would have gotten you into trouble, and Dick would have called Bruce... Meaning I was the last person you could turn to. Because I'm the trouble kid who defies the rules."

Tim had slumped into his chair, head lowered, cheeks pink in embarrassment.Never before had Jason seen Tim so embarrassed, or small looking. It would have been adorable if Jason weren't so concerned.

"You _know_ I have to tell Bruce." The second robin pointed out dryly. Tim paled. "He's probably worried sick about you."

"No, Jason! I-" Tim looked terrified. "I _can't!_ I can't be stuck there. I just... I don't have that much trust in Bruce right now, and he's probably ticked, and he's grumpy, and Alfred's tense, and Gotham needs a Red Robin, and-"

"Okay, okay." Jason held both palms up. The boy was two seconds away from hyperventilating, eyes wide and panicked. "Breathe Timbers. Just... take a deep breath." Jason frowned. Bruce had been doing a lot better these days; but it was understandable that he was tense. He'd been batman for years. It was a piece of Bruce, and his own kids -Tim especially- had taken it away. While he hadn't thrown more than an initial stink about it, Bruce was sulking. The therapist helped, of that everyone was certain, but lately, Bruce had gotten quieter and more reserved than normal. It didn't help that the batkids sensed the beginning of the summer crime wave.

"Tim, has he hurt you?"

"What? No." Tim amended, waving his hand and scrubbing a hand down his cheek. "No he hasn't. I just..."

Jason stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. He could cover for Tim, but then what? Tim would start using him as a scapegoat, any trust the family was starting to build may crumble. Little white lies usually started harmless, but they never ended that way. Tim was Bruce's kid as far as the adoption agencies and law was concerned, meaning Bruce was in charge of Tim.

He studied his little brother for a long moment, mind racing. Finally he folded his hands and looked Tim straight in the eye. "Alright."

"You won't tell him?"

"I have to tell him, Tim. This is your safety we're talking about." When Tim's mouth opened, Jason silenced him with a raised hand. "But-" He continued. "But I'll talk to Bruce, see if we can't work something out."

"You will?"

"Yes. Now get some breakfast and go take a shower. You reek." He stood up, ruffling Tim's hair as he passed by.

* * *

Jason waited until Tim had shuffled off to the shower before he grabbed his cellphone and dialed Bruce. It rang exactly once before his mentor -slash- father -slash- pain in the neck picked up.

_"Jason?"_

"Missing something?"

_"Tim."_

"Mh hmm." Jason hummed. "Crashed at my place after a nasty run in with the scarecrow."

 _"That's what I was worried about. I'll send Alfred to pick him up."_ Bruce sighed tiredly, sounding very much like an exasperated father with little control over his kids. 

"Actually, that's what I need to talk to you about. He told me you two got into an argument. You tried benching him."

_"Every other day. I wanted him to bring his grades up. I know he doesn't particularly care about them, but I want him to."_

"I get that. I really do. But you do happen to realize that we're on the brink of a crime wave, right? We need all hands on deck as it is, and Tim's made it clear you're not going to be able to keep him in... short of tying him up and locking him in a closet." Jason rubbed the bridge of his nose.

_"You're taking his side?"_

"I'm on my _own side_ , Old Man." Jason shot back, sharply. "But I know that he's the unstoppable force, and you're the immovable object. And apparently I'm the only one who thought compromises were a good idea. I want him to stay with me every other week or so. I'll make sure he attends his classes -unless the world's ending again-, and I'll tutor him after school personally in whatever he's struggling with. Then I'll take him out on patrol. If he gets too tired, I'll cut our nights short and make sure gets sleep."

Bruce went silent over the line.

"Every other week, he'll stay with me. During the in between weeks, I'll come by and tutor him at the manor." There it was. He knew offering to come by the manor more often would help sell it.

Jason waited, twirling the telephone cable around his pointer finger thoughtfully -despite the fact he wasn't using the telephone at all-. He could hear Bruce considering it, knowing full well if the old man put his foot down, the problems would compound, and there would be nothing Jason could do to stop it.

 _"Alright."_ Bruce acquiesced. _"But he's grounded for the rest of this week."_

"I'll pass the message along."

* * *

"You're seriously inviting me, the replacement, the wannabe, to stay here. With _you."_

Jason rolled his eyes, sighing slightly. "I believe I made that clear. Unless I suddenly started speaking Tamaranian without realizing it." His tone was deadpan, but quickly sobered as he looked Tim in the eye seriously. "It's a compromise, Tim. You're still grounded this week because... Well... Last night. And I'm not a lenient tutor either. You _will_ be attending those study sessions, in rain or storm, or Darkseid's apocalypse... and I'm _going_ to get your grades up. And if you get tired, you _will_ be coming straight home to sleep. That's non negotiable. But the alternative is to be missing half your week of patrol. And I _know_ you don't want that either."

"You make it sound like bootcamp."

"Bootcamp with popcorn and horror movies..." Jason wrinkled his nose. "Barring IT of course."

"Well..." Time scratched his head. "-how could I say no to that?"

**To be continued... Next chapter Jason and Damian**


	3. Jason and Damian (Former Assassins Stick Together)

"Posso portarvi qualcos 'altro?" (Can I get you anything else?)

Emily Good, co-owner of the Good Cafe just on the outskirts of crime alley smiled warmly as she gently set a warmed plate with a buttery croissant on the glass shielded wooden table.

"No Grazie." He replied pleasantly, hands cupping his latte as he leaned back in the wicker chair. The place was quaint, a little underfunded, but the food was absolutely amazing. He was a regular, making it a habit to swing around every morning for a cup of coffee and a freshly baked pastry. He knew most of the staff by name, save for the illusive co-owner Mr. Ronald.

But from the quiet whispers of the staff, it was probably better that Jason didn't meet him. He couldn't guarantee that Ronald _wouldn't_ walk away with a few missing teeth. The man was a menace, pure and simple. Though, Emily never talked to customers about it. She was too respectful to drag the man with a majority share in her business through the mud, and Jason respected that.

Still, Jason longed to knock him down a few pegs every now and then.

Emily studied him intently, fixing the napkin on the edge of the table absentmindedly. "You..." She paused, mulling over the words, perhaps wondering if it was even worth bringing up. A piece of her won out because she wrinkled her nose and smiled, the laugh lines creasing in her eyes. "You smile more these days, Mr. Peters."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I now?"

"Yes. A long time ago, you scowled every morning while you watched the news-" She gestured to the small flatscreen perched on a shelf in the corner of the dining floor. "but now, you smile. You have come across... good fortune?"

"Something like that." Jason admitted quietly. "I'm talking to my family again."

"Oh, buona! Very good, Mr. Peters. Family is important." She smiled fondly. "I am happy."

"Me too." Jason admitted quietly, swirling his spoon through the light tan latte perched on a saucer to his left. "Me too."

"Excellent." Emily frowned, glancing up as the bell dinged. "Ah another customer. I'll leave you to breakfast."

"Thanks, Ms. Good."

* * *

Jason ignored the customers coming and going, plucking his phone from his back pocket and filtering through the metropolis news. On some mornings, he'd read up on what was happening outside the confines of wonderfully Rotten little Gotham. Everything else was in the back of his mind, until-

"This coffee is sub par. I should have suspected as much from a _dirty_ corner shop." Jason grit his teeth. He knew that voice. He _knew_ that voice. And it made him mad -no livid.

Whirling around, he spotted Emily frozen. The place wasn't empty, but quiet, and save for low classical music in the background, the customer's voice had carried, attracting the attention of several others.

With a bent head, Emily smiled weakly. "So sorry." She muttered. "I'll give you new one, on the house? The coffee was not strong enough."

Jason glared at the back of the customer's head. Damian Freaking Wayne, ungrateful bratt. "Do so."

"I'll give you a new one, on the house." She promised once more, but Jason stepped in the way, hand gripping Damian's scrawny little shoulder like an iron vice.

"Ah, Damian!" Jason greeted in a dangerous tone. "I didn't expect to see _you_ here." Jason smiled at her. It was tight, strained almost. Emily looked at him in surprise, as did Damian. The food there, coffee especially, was typically delicious; meaning Damian was either being inhumanly picky, or it was a genuine mistake on the kitchen's part.

The boy under his hand shrunk slightly at his tone of voice. It was _that_ tone of voice. The same tone of voice Jason used on criminals, wrongdoers, those who had something to be worried or apologetic for.

"Damian. Apologize."

"But-"

"But nothing. _You_ chose to come here. You chose to order the coffee. Maybe there _was_ a problem with it. But you do not-" He gripped hard enough to make Damian hiss in discomfort. "Do _not_ insult her or this establishment. If you don't like it after your _second_ try? You don't come back. But you do not. be. _Rude_. Now apologize."

Damian stared at Jason in shock, trying to yank his shoulder free. Jason just stared at him. One staring contest later, and Damian had withered into his seat. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

"Good. Now order another cup. Specify what you want."

"I'd..." He frowned heavily. "I'd like a cup of strong coffee with three sugar and cream..." He paused. Jason squeezed warningly. "Please! Please. I'll pay." He added uncharacteristically.

"Of course, sir." Emily smiled at Jason, a true smile of relief, before slipping off to the kitchen.

As soon as she was out of ear shot, Damian scowled. "Release me, Todd." Jason relented, letting up on his shoulder and dropping into the chair on the other side of the table with a puff of air.

They sat in uncomfortable silence, glaring at each other. Jason looked Damian over. The kid was bedraggled, dark circles under his eyes -much like a certain Tim Drake- and he'd been grouchier than usual. Normally he had enough tact to be generally polite, but all that hard work had gone out the window. Jason had to admit, he was curious. It probably had something to do with Bruce. He'd been a source of stress since the family ganged up on him for his less than stellar parenting.

Still, to make assumptions around Damian could earn a scornful wrath not even Jason felt like dealing with today. He took a long sip of his coffee. "Alright. What's eating _you?_ _"_

"I am perfectly in tact."

"Don't give me that bull-shi-cra-poo."

Damian giggled.

Jason blinked.

"Did you just giggle?" Jason demanded, eyeing him carefully. The eleven year old stiffened, fingers digging into the hem of his black sweater.

"No."

"You _did. You giggled!_ " Jason cooed. "That's so _cute!"_

"I will disembowel you, Todd."

"Aaaand grumpy Damian's back." Jason handed him half of his uneaten croissant; and Damian accepted it, germs be darned. Of course, they dealt with knives, bullets, baseball bats, crowbars, and other dangerous weapons on a nightly basis. Germs were pretty low on the 'Danger' totem pole. "But seriously, kid. You've been grouchier than usual lately."

Damian stared at him.

"It's Bruce isn't it?"

Damian averted his gaze, silent confirmation. "I haven't forgiven him." The boy admitted. And _ouch._ It had been well over two and a half months since the fallout. And most had moved on, save for Tim and Damian -not that Todd blamed them in any way-. Still, if the family was going to heal, it really had to _heal._ So he took a leap of faith.

"Why?"

Emily whisked by, setting a cup down in front of Damian. The boy actually has the good sense to look away slightly when Jason smiles at her. She vanished just as quickly as she'd come.

"Damian." Jason pressed, not to sternly, but with enough oomf that it was clear this was a inescapable discussion. Damian broke a piece off his croissant, rolling the flaky bread between his finger tips. He had this... almost distressed look in his stormy blue eyes.

"Father has betrayed my trust. After all he told me, after all he made me promise, he very nearly went back on it himself. He punished you when he should have helped you, and I fear... if I slip, I shall suffer the same fate."

Jason sighed. "I understand, but... Damian, he _didn't_ kill me."

"He might as well have." Damian muttered, popping the rolled up bread in his mouth and taking a sip of his coffee. His face lit up in a way that indicated he did indeed enjoy the nutty flavor of their chosen brew.

"Damian... They said I tried to kill you. They said I shot you. Is it true?" Jason asked, staring into his coffee. He couldn't for the life of him remember trying to kill Damian. Maybe here or there he got flashes, but they were hardly comprehensible. Damian's eyes flickered to him in surprise.

"Yes."

"But I didn't kill you."

"No."

"And yet you trust me."

"It's different."

Jason leveled him with a look. _"No_ It _'_ s the _e_ _xact_ same thing, Damian. Except... I was _trying_ to kill you. Bruce wasn't trying to kill _me._ It was an accident, Damian. It didn't happen. So it doesn't matter. I've forgiven him, and I'm the one he's wronged."

"You have always been open about your code." Damian shot back. "You've always embraced the fact that you're a killer; yet my father claims that he's above it."

"He is." Jason replied. "And we both know it."

"But what if he snaps!" Damian hissed back. "What if I mess up and father... father hurts me?"

Jason sighed, leaning back and casting a gaze around the room. He understood Damian's fear probably better than most. Bruce could be a dangerous force if crossed, and not only did he and Damian have criminal pasts that crossed Bruce's line, but they were afraid of his scorn and wrath. He _was_ their father after all. No child wanted to disappoint a parental figure. Especially one like Bruce, who'd done so much for all of them.

But the fear was a worthy one. So he looked Damian in the eye. "You give him a chance. Right now you accept the fact that he's made a mistake, but the people he's hurt have forgiven him. So you forgive him. We both know you love him; and he sure as heck loves you. More than you could _ever_ know, Damian. He made a mistake, possibly two if we're gonna lump Dick in there. But I've made a lot more; you've made a lot more. Yet he's still handing out chances to _us_. So we return the favor. I mean, we owe it to him to do the same. You're not the one he's wronged... physically at least." His fingers gripped Damian's shoulder lightly across the table. " _I_ was. Give him a chance, Damian. And if he hurts you. I swear. You _and_ I? We'll hurt him back. Together. Because we retired Legion assassins stick together."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

**TBC**


	4. Jason and Bruce (Sick as A Bat) Part 1

It was a chilled evening in Gotham City, temperatures made bearable by the light drizzle cascading down on Gotham's glorious infrastructure. It wasn't a torrential downpour, though that had indeed been predicted for later during the night. Bruce grabbed his umbrella from the bin settled in the corner of the lobby of the Wayne Enterprise building. He hated board meetings, but Lucius had insisted that he be there.

He'd much rather be in the batcave, coordinating his children's efforts to keep Gotham safe. He missed the cowl, but at least they were allowing him to help in some capacity. But things were still tense. Dick had completely offered his forgiveness, and their relationship had clicked back together as if it hadn't been damaged to begin with. And while it bothered Bruce, that Dick was so willing to forget and forgive, he felt grateful for the normalcy. His other sons were a different matter. Tim seemed jumpy, reserved, more tired than usual. Damian had been giving him the cold shoulder, but without warning, his demeanor changed once more.

 _"Father-"_ He had said. _"Todd has encouraged me to give you another chance. He has made some valid points. So... I shall attempt to move past your horrific behavior."_

And for the most part, he had. Damian was still reserved, but hung around the manor and Bruce more often than he had been these last few months. He allowed Bruce to review his grades, and even asked for help in trickier subjects. He was still reserved towards speaking about himself, but Bruce took it as a win none-the-less.

Tim was still distanced. He roamed the manor like a ghost, barely fighting with Damian these days. He could either be found in his room, in School, the batcave, or at Jason's. And Bruce was growing worried, but he feared spooking the kid by approaching him out of the blue. He'd have their backs during missions, and slowly but surely Tim's demeanor was relaxing.

Then there was Jason.

Jason came to the manor every day of every other week to tutor Tim, but he kept his distance from Bruce. And the worst part was that Bruce _knew_ it wasn't fear. It was habit. They'd spent so long tiptoeing around each other that it had become natural, to avoid, to speak little. Jason _was_ reaching out during missions, but mostly to the other birds. That was new, something Bruce was grateful for. But there was still a gap in his and Jason's relationship, one that Jason didn't notice, or felt to comfortable with to attempt to bridge. And despite all the ground gained in fixing their family, it felt like the progress had come to a standstill.

As he popped open his umbrella and slipped through the sliding glass doors of his building, Bruce nodded at the security guards and shuffled off towards the parking lot where he'd left his black Mercedes Benz S-Class. The rain pattered against the black plastic buffer above his head, wind tugging at the hem of his black overcoat. The night was descending rapidly, but Bruce was fortunate enough to be catching the tail end of rush hour.

As he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot, Bruce turned the radio on and merged with traffic. He avoided tuning into the news. He didn't like hearing about things beyond his control, though he did get snippits of the latest happenings by monitoring his son's missions. A light classical filled the speakers, swirling through the cabin of the car.

His drive was mostly quiet and peaceful. He was already letting his mind wander to the rest of the night. Alfred was probably cooking dinner, and Bruce had to admit, compared to the glob of red goo they called chili in the cafeteria, some of Alfred's home made cooking sounded positively heavenly. If he wasn't mistaken, Fish Chowder was on the menu for tonight.

Stomach rumbling at the thought, Bruce urged his car to go a little faster, not one tick under the speed limit. He was tired, drained from the hassle of business meetings and hungry. So caught up in these thoughts, Bruce was, he almost missed the black haired boy in a red hoodie trudging down the street. But he didn't. As he passed the kid, he used his rear view mirror to confirm his suspicions. It was a pale faced Jason Todd, hands stuffed deep in his sweater pockets. He didn't seem to notice that it was Bruce who'd driven past; but it didn't seem like he was noticing much of anything. His eyes were trained carefully on the cracked apartment front pavement he was traversing.

Bruce noticed a wobble to his steps, the way he paused to wipe sweat and rain water off his uncovered brow. Bruce was so distracted that he almost crashed into the car in front of him, the one that had stopped obediently at the traffic light to await its return to green. Bruce shook his head, eyes focusing on the road. There was a small parking lot for one of the apartment buildings up ahead. Jason was walking slow, clearly in no hurry. He looked sick.

It would explain why his tutoring sessions with Tim were on hold. Tim hadn't exactly explained why he wasn't visiting Jason vice versa, just that there was a grinding halt in the plans and that Tim was studying alone for a while. Bruce pulled into the lot, foregoing the umbrella and fastening the top button of his coat. Then he hopped out. Jason was waiting at the crosswalk, for the light. Bruce noticed he was leaning against the pole, trying to look casual, but face set in a grimace. Without warning, his elbow came up to wrap around his jaw as his shoulders shook in a wet hacking fit.

Bruce hurried his steps, just as the glowing pedestrian traffic light switched to a white walking symbol. Jason pushed off the pole, foot ready to drop to the faded painting cross walk.

"Jason." A hand came to rest on his shoulder. Jason whirled around, fists raised to defend himself. "Easy." Bruce placed his hands on Jason's shoulders to steady the wobbly kid in front of him.

"Bruce?" Jason rasped, voice grating like he'd swallowed rocks. Bruce spotted the pained grimace as Jason swallowed, the way he shook with fine tremors, barely noticeable past the bulky clothing. "What are you doing here?"

"I _was_ driving home." Bruce replied gently. "Jason, you look like death warmed over." He saw Jason's mouth open -probably with some rendition of the Zombie Joke that made Bruce cringe- , and he cut him off. "How long have you been sick?"

The nineteen year old's gaze dropped slightly, shoulders shrugging under Bruce's hands. 

It suddenly dawned on Bruce that he'd been helping the Red Hood bust crime rings all week. His son hadn't been resting, and Bruce fought the urge to call him out on it right now, berate him for being foolish and bench him.

But it was an urge Bruce squashed with bitter contempt. His therapist's warning was lurking in the background-

_"From what I've gathered, Jason Todd isn't much for authority. What's more, is that he appears to see himself as an adult. He's been forced to make decisions on his own, create a name for himself away from your shadow. You still regard yourself as his father, but I don't believe you've come to accept that he no longer wants your protection or direction. It could be that you're attempting to treat him like the child that died in Ethiopia. Make no mistake, I'm certain a part of him is still there, but he's a man now. I'd advise against treating him like a subordinate. From your accounts, it appears that the only thing that succeeds in doing, is shutting him down and driving yet another wedge into your relationship. Try treating him as an equal. Give him your love, even advice as the opportunity presents itself, but let him make his own decisions... and perhaps you won't agree with them. But ultimately, they're his to make."  
_

And Bruce realized how easy it would be to 'shut Jason down.'

"You shouldn't be out in this rain as sick as you are." Bruce said instead. Jason's eyes flashed with anger, turning a strange green that clouded over the blue. Bruce knew Jason struggled to control the allure of the pit's anger. He knew Jason had once been driven absolutely insane by the haze of green, knew his actions during his return hadn't been controlled by rational thought.

He knew Jason was in control now. But Bruce also knew that Jason struggled with the occasional flare ups of anger and bitterness fueled by otherwordly forces. He knew Jason worked daily to keep in check, using meditative techniques he learned in the All caste. When a situation was too hot for Jason to handle, he left the room until he could control himself, guarantee no one would get hurt. But it made sense that if Jason's mind was muddled by sickness, too tired to focus on control, that he was more prone to anger.

So to cut through the anger, he placed his hand on the side of Jason's face, frowning at the heat radiating off the rain slicked skin of Jason's cheek. He hoped that Jason would perceive it as concern rather than a heartless rebuke. "Are you okay? Injured anywhere?"

Jason's eyes closed as he sucked in a breath, leaning into Bruce's hand. "Nothing new." He admitted quietly, voice strained. "I'm on my way to the apartment" And Bruce didn't dare ask what happened to his bike. He just nodded.

"Let me take you home."

Jason's eyes snapped open, and the boy took a step back. "No. No. No... You're probably already contaminated....." He coughed into his fist, taking another step back. "Gotta be careful for no spleen Timmy. Know what I mean?" But Bruce could see how tired he looked, how ready to collapse the kid was. His heel slipped off sidewalk, just a truck barreled down the road. Bruce jumped in panic, grabbing Jason by the collar of his hoodie and yanking back. Jason fell against his chest, knees giving out; and Bruce curled his arms around his son.

"I'll quarantine at your house.... If you'll have me" Bruce replied. "Please, Jay? Don't make me worry."

The nineteen year old sagged in defeat, hand coming up to pat Bruce's back placatingly. "Fine. But only because you'll..." He muffled a cough by keeping his mouth closed, chest heaving and hands tightening into fists. "-break in anyway. And I probably already got you sick." Jason wasn't about to admit the company -even Bruce's- sounded nice.

He sniffed miserably and Bruce nodded. "Car's this way. Come on." He adjusted Jason so the boy was leaning against him as they walked, Bruce's arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him steady. He had a half a mind to ask what Jason was doing out in this weather; but he figured ultimately, it probably didn't matter. At least not now.

* * *

Bruce drove towards Jason's apartment, casting a sideways glance at his son. The boy was trembling, hair damp and clinging to his forehead, clothes soaked and dripping on the seats. His eyes were trained on the passing scenery, glazed, unfocused, and half lidded.

"What happened to your bike?" Bruce asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Jason jolted, jerking and glancing at Bruce.

"In the shop." He murmured tiredly. "I wasn't expecting the rain... got stuck at a little diner just down the- the-" Jason coughed again, clutching his stomach, face reddening as the fit lasted far too long. Bruce never let his eyes leave the road, but he reached over to rub circles on Jason's back. "It... got bad fast." Jason wasn't sure whether or not he was referring to the rain or the illness.

"Okay."

"Are you benching me?" Jason asked suddenly, sounding hesitant.

"I'm not in charge of you." Bruce replied carefully, channeling his therapist here. "But I am going to ask you respectfully -one adult to another- to take some time off. I'm worried you'll get yourself hurt. And _I'm_ benched from Batman so... I don't... I can't help you. In a bind." Bruce admitted hesitantly.

"Okay."

Bruce had expected a fight. But Jason actually looked content... if not downright relieved and pleased. Bruce nodded, a sense of victory welling up in his chest. "Okay."

* * *

Jay opened the door with shaking hands, turning the key in the lock and shoving the door open. Bruce followed him inside. He saw a nest of heavy blankets on the couch, a pile of tissues in a walmart bag under the coffee table and a few empty tissue boxes stacked on top. Jason waved his hand. "Make yourself at home. M'gonna go change." Bruce nodded, pulling his wet overcoat off and hanging it on the rack. Jason vanished, coming back a few minutes later in sweat pants and a Wayne Enterprises hoodie.

Bruce recognized it as the one Dick had given him as a gag a few weeks ago. The thing was comfier than anyone really cared to admit. The boy collapsed on the couch, curling into a small ball and coughing wetly. Bruce rounded the couch, kneeling next to Jason and putting a hand on his forehead. "Where's your thermometer?"

Jason gasped heavily, pointing vaguely in the direction of his bathroom. He didn't have the lung capacity to speak right now. Bruce found it easily enough in the mirror pill cabinet. He aimed it at Jason's temple and frowned. "Hmm... 101.8." Bruce set the device aside. "I'll certainly be keeping tabs on it. But right now, I'm going to get you some ice water for your throat." Jason nodded and Bruce scraped his calloused thumb over his cheek before vanishing into the kitchen. A moment later he returned and set the cup on coffee table.

"All right. Make room." He said, helping Jason sit up and plopping down on one of the cushions. A little shuffling later, and Jason's head was on the other end of the couch, pillows propped up so he could breathe, feet propped in Bruce's lap. He sank down tiredly, grabbing a tissue from the box Bruce had left next to him.

"This is why smoking's a... a bad idea." Jason murmured. "Guess I didn't give it up fast _**cough**_ enough."

Bruce patted his shin sympathetically.

"J'st seemed like the... best way to cope." Bruce winced. He knew Jason had been smoking for years. He'd stopped after Bruce first took him in, but picked it right back up after he'd stopped being insane. Probably because Bruce -who fully accepted that he was a moronic idiot- had pushed him away in his time of need. Bruce wouldn't let himself make the same mistake twice. "Kinda... stupid."

"You'll be okay, Jay." Bruce said with every ounce of certainty he could muster. "I'll make sure of it."

"Hmm." Jason's eyes drooped of their own accord, snapping open moments later.

Bruce sighed, making an obvious motion of getting settled. "Get some sleep, Kiddo. You need it."

Jason let out a strangled laugh. "Can't. Nightmares."

Bruce sighed sympathetically. "You know... I used to be terrified of bats. And the cave. When I was seven, I fell down this old well into the cave. Broke my leg, and they didn't find me for two days. I was traumatized, hated bats, had nightmares every night."

"You? _You?_ Terrified of bats? I don't believe it!" Jason's eyes were lit up with humor in a way Bruce hadn't seen in a long time. He found a smile tugging at his own lips.

"Oh yes. I hated them."

"How'd you deal with them? The nightmares?" Jason asked.

"Well..." Bruce paused. "My father told me that if I ever had a nightmare, he'd be there to chase it off. Because even the scariest dreams feared a man who loved his son. And every time I woke up screaming, or scared, he'd be there."

A wistful look lurked in Jason's hazy eyes.

"And I'll be there for _you,_ Jay." He promised, squeezing Jason's leg. "Even if I'm not physically there, all you have to do is call. I know I haven't always been there, not when you needed it. But I want to be. I want you to come to me. I want to be your father."

Jason stared at him, gauging the sincerity of the promise. Once again, the distrustful street rat looked like it was lurking somewhere in Jason's mind, pressing him to be wary. The piece of Jason that longed for the relationship he once had with the Bat of Gotham was there too, goading Jason forward, begging him to accept the offer. In the end, Jason just nodded, sinking down against the cushions and looking relaxed.

"Remember all those years on patrol?" Bruce asked. "You were sick, and we stayed home from patrol and watched old westerns. It was one of those few times I decided to splurge and eat buttery popcorn. One of my fondest memories of you."

Jason looked horrified, eyes widening. Because no, he didn't remember. "Crap." He breathed. "I- I don't."

Cocking an eyebrow, Bruce cast him a curious gaze. "Oh? That's... odd."

"I..." Jason closed his eyes, guilt looming over his face like a dark shadow, a reminder of something he clearly didn't want to remember. "I got rid of it." He finally whispered.

"Of... the memory?" Bruce had to admit he was confused. Had Jason hypnotized himself into forgetting such a peaceful memory? Why? It didn't really make sense to the old Bat, but clearly it did to Jason.

"Yeah." The second Robin swallowed, sniffing. "I uh... In a mission for the All Caste... They took my most precious memory as collateral. I think... that might have been it." Jason admitted. "I was so angry... that when the mission was over and they offered to give it back... I said no. I didn't want it... because it hurt. I never thought you'd want me back, and-" Jason broke off, voice shaking as he put a hand to his forehead with a stricken look. "I'm sorry, Bruce."

Bruce stared on in shock, eyes narrowed in surprise. Jason had rejected it? And of all the time they'd spent together, _that_ had quite possibly been Jason's most precious memory? There was no way to be certain, for Jason didn't remember what the memory was. He didn't have it for reference. But if Jason suspected, then that was enough for the bat. It was a devastating thought, that his son had been so furious, so hurt, so certain their relationship was too damaged. It hurt that Jason had been too wounded to even _want_ to remember the good times.

Bruce pushed Jason's legs off his lap, rising up quickly. The kid curled in on himself... until Bruce was pulling him into a gentle embrace. "It's okay, Jay." He muttered, pressing his chin to Jason's forehead. "It's okay."

"How? I got rid of-" Jason shuddered with a barely restrained cough. "-I can't remember-"

"It's okay because we'll make a new memory. To replace it." Bruce replied. "Lots of memories." Jason sniffled, reaching around Bruce's arm for a tissue.

"You remember what we were-" Jason paused to blow his nose. "-watching? All those years ago?"

A slight grin -a true one- slowly formed on Bruce's face, the frown lines fading as they were pulled in a less natural way. After looking up the first movie they'd watched all those years ago, _Ride Lonesome_ Bruce put it on the TV.

Turns out he didn't need to find the second. Jason was already conked out. Just as he had been all those years ago.

* * *

**TBC in Sick as a Bat Part 2**

**I don't know if I like this chapter very much... Just seems off. Maybe it's my tired mind. I hope you all enjoyed regardless though. It was about time to update this one. Thanks to everyone reading this. I appreciate you!**


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